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This is my blog (now there is a surprise!). I will be sticking in it poetry, prose, random musings, things that take my fancy and more than likely lots of pictures of cats. I hope you find something to amuse and/or interest you here.

Sunday, 24 April 2011

I wrote this for a picture inspired story contest. I can't include the picture due to copywites but I hope the story stands alone. The maximum word count was to be 1500 words.

Third row, seventh column; being careful to tread only on the paved squares, she found her assigned place, and stood bare foot on the bare soil.

No full ceremony with row after row of brethren linking, today Tyrr was here alone. The fresh tattoos of her rank in the brethren still smarted in the chill air. Today she must link and find her own answer; she must learn her name. In the dormitory, her fellow fledglings would be waiting their turn, rehearsing the correct procedures over and over in their heads, as she had. In the refectory, the brethren were waiting, greeting each successful initiate and welcoming them to full status. A joyful party she longed to join.

Gradually, she brought her breathing under control, slowed her racing heart and focused on what she was here to achieve. Piece by piece, Tyrr filled in the image in her mind. There, the tree of knowledge. Overhead, the birds, messengers of the air. Her breathing became slow and rhythmic, and she forgot the cold soil beneath her feet, the sting in her face and shoulders, the restless stir of the wind.

The image in her mind was so real she almost flinched as the bird brushed past her face. It was right, it was good. Relaxation and a sense of purpose flowed with her breathing.

Then there was a second layer to the image. A building, a great hall shimmered in her sight, gradually solidifying until the tree and the birds were gone. Tyrr was surrounded by solid stone.

Moving without moving, she passed grand statues, grave, impartial figures which appeared to by judging her. This was not under her control, this movement, this vision. Tyrr thought she should be afraid but her emotions were numbed, blanketed by a soothing calm. She was not here to do but to see and learn.

Through more archways she moved, then into a hall. The stone was no longer grey but a luminous, soft gold. The sourceless light focused on the raised dais and the lectern standing as its centre.

Her feelings flooded back. Tyrr shook with the terror and awe that ricocheted through her soul. Her movements were under her control again. She quivered with the urge to flee, to run from all this. This was not what she had been taught to expect.
The tree of knowledge, yes. The birds, yes. Even the bird who had skimmed her face, yes. That bird should have landed, should have whispered her name. But this? This was terror. Unknown and unasked for. By now, she should have been Tyrr no longer. She should have been back in the refectory, feasting and celebrating her new status with her friends and fellows. Not here, not in this unknown hall. Not crushed under this terrible weight of foreboding.

'Choose.'

It wasn't a voice, this command from nowhere. It filled her with knowing yet it was knowledge beyond her grasp, hovering at the edge of her mind like a forgotten memory.

'Choose.'

The force of it nearly dropped Tyrr to her knees. What was the choice she must make? Grasping her tattered courage, Tyrr took a deep, ragged, cleansing breath to steady herself. Turning her thoughts back into herself, working to regain control. After a brief fight with her inner demons she brought her attention back to the hall in which she stood, calmer and more in control, if no less afraid.

'Good.'

The feeling was gentler, more approving. The fear lessened a shade.

'Approach.'

No need to ask what. Tyrr moved with a firm, slow step towards the dais. The stone steps were cool and smooth under her bare feet and she wondered now who had trodden here before her. Whose feet had worn these smooth depressions in the stone?

The light thickened around her as she moved towards the lectern. The glow became blinding in its intensity, but Tyrr knew she must not shade her eyes. She forced her way through the solidifying air. On the lectern in front of her was an open book. The writing was the old script, with illuminated lettering so ornate the words could be lost in the elaborate pictures.

'Read.'

It was clear Tyrr was to read aloud.

Tyrr felt the air swallow her words. She had projected them to ring off these stone walls yet they seemed to vanish as she spoke them, leaving her with no memory of what she had read. The book looked the same and yet the words could no longer be read, they held no meaning.

'So be it.'

This time, the feeling came as regret; sad yet resolute.

'It is time.'

And the bird landed on her shoulder, there by the tree of knowledge. The stone halls, a dreamlike memory, were gone, leaving her doubting what she had seen. The bird's beak parted and it whispered a word.

'Tathinal.'

Her name. She was successful. She was a full initiate.

Tathinal stepped from the soil and walked towards the refectory. Reaching the entrance, she returned her mentor's silent, smiling greeting. They entered the preparation room together and Tathinal relished the soothing touch of the warm water as her mentor helped her wash. A smile so wide it made her face hurt came as she was robed for the first time as an initiate, fledgling no longer. Now nothing could remove her from the brethren. No act could change her status. Oh yes, there could still be punishment for transgressions, and she was still one of the lowliest of the low within the brethren, but her status in the world was set.

Her mentor indicated that she was ready and, with a waved arm and smiling bow, ushered her into the refectory. Time for her first public announcement. For a split second her poise deserted her and her knees trembled. Ridiculous. Sternly she regained control. All she had to do was say her name.

'My name is Tathinal'

Silently, she rehearsed it in her head. Simple. Four words. So why this sudden fear?

At her mentor's questioning gaze she shrugged, smiling wryly. Her mentor repeated his earlier gesture with a reassuring grin. He had seen all types of reactions to this moment, she guessed.

The swirling, laughing group paused, turning to look at her as the gong's soft chime announced her entrance.

Tathinal stood tall and faced the assembly. Into the welcoming silence she spoke so that all could hear. The words that came from her lips were words she did not remember; words she had said once before, standing at a lectern in another silent, expectant room.

'Behold, I am come. I am the destroyer, the changer, the reaper and the one who sows. I will bring down and raise up. I will remove and replace. I am the past and the future, the present will fear me. All things will be done anew. All endings will come and all beginnings start. I bring terror and destruction; there will be no peace until my work is done. Do not fear me, for I must be. My name is Tathinal, the necessary one.'

In silence, they turned away from her, forming into ranks.The Hawkmaster moved to face her, bowed, then took his place at the head if the files.It was her only acknowledgement.The Brethren followed him out through the arched doorway, out of the building.

As the marched to the sacred ground, the last of the fledglings, herded by their mentors, stumbled to join them.

The deathly hush continued as the hallowed spaces were filled. Each of the brethren moving to their place with solemn deliberation, linking with practiced ease.

Tathinal walked along the diagonals, not stepping on the sacred earth, lightly touching each person.

Finally she returned to where the Fledglings were huddled in uncertainty.

‘Go.You have no place in this.Yours is a beginning not an ending.Start it now.Leave.’

They stared back at her in blank incomprehension.

‘GO!’

Her shout broke the spell and they ran.She did not look where they went but moved to stand in the space she had occupied earlier.Bowing her head, she linked with her Brethren.

Behind the fleeing youngsters, Fledglings no longer, flames exploded outward; engulfing the sacred ground.Greasy smoke rose skyward, thickening into the form of great black crows.

1) Link back to the person who gave you the award... (done)
2) Tell 7 things about yourself... (err)
3) Award 15 recently discovered bloggers (tricky!)

Okay. 7 things about me:

I have an I.Q. of 157 acording to Mensa.

I get on better with cats than with people.

I spent 20 years working as a Train Announcer on the Railway.

I suffer from mental illness.

I am clumsey and accident prone. I have only had minor injuries from accidents whan awake, the worst being a broken fingure when I was five. While asleep I have sprained my neck on two occasions, broken a toe, sprained my shoulder, dislocated my thumb, concussed myself, torn two intercostal muscles, scratched my cornea and blacked my eye. I am somewhat of a restless sleeper.

The only animals I can't get on with are equines the hate me, I dislike them. This has been going on since I was bitten and kick by a Zebra at the zoo.

I love singing and frequently sing without realising I am doing it. My brain tends to sing the song it thinks suits the occasion, not always appropriately. I was caught singing 'Busy doing nothing' at work by my manager, who was not amused.

In the spirit of this, I give the award back to JL. Versatile she certainly is!
Three more are:

We moved into this house a year ago last December. I swore I would giv it a yar to see what I wanted to keep and what to change. So, it is spring and I am making those changes.
I am a 'fits and starts' gardenr with green fingures and black thumbs. Thus my success is erratic.

I have just finished day one of the project, or rather, it has finished me. technicallt it is day two as I have already spent one day on this. What I am doing is taking down a laurel tree that block the view down the garden from the house.
This is the view from our window. The tree nearest the house is a 'Tree of Heaven'. It is near the end of its lifespan I am told but, with the help of a good tree surgeon, we are nursing it along. It is a beautiful tree but has one bad habit, it produces a chemical that kills anything that is planted near it.

The view from the top of the steps down from the decking.

The view from by the brick shed, still looking towards the willow at the bottom of the garden

Whoever planted the garden must have loved trees because the planted quite a few. apart from the Tree of Heaven, we have a mature weeping willow (which is looking sorry for itself having had to be pruned severely last summer), a rowan and a couple of small trees I don't know. Unfortunately, they have been badly neglected. I spent £2000 on a tree surgeon who has got them back into some sort of health and shape but the are all over 50 years old, the willow and the Tree of Heaven were probably planted when the house was built in the 1920's.

I had the decking rebuilt last year. The ground slopes sharply away at the rear of the house, the decking atsrts level with the rear door and finishes 5 foot off the ground! That makes the slope about 1 in 3.
The whole garden slopes, although not all at that rate. I am trying to decide whether to terrace it or not. Terracing would make access easier but seriously increase the cost and workload. One thing I do want to do is open up the view. It is a narrow garden but long. The trees and bushes block it off and make it look very small and dark up by the house.

So, what have I done today? Not a lot that you can see. Behind the tree arching over the path, there is a laurel bush/tree. This blocks most of the light from the house end of the garden so I am taking it down. I probably need to use a chainsaw to do it properly but I haven't got one. I am also broke so getting someone to do it for me is not an option. I have spent two days on it and am about two thirds of the way through. Mind you, a day is only about 3 hours long. After that my strength gives out, along with my knees and ankles.

Hopefully, I will be fit enough to finish it tomorrow but I can not be sure. The vertigo I am undergoing at the moment is really taking its toll.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Two weeks ago I had a migraine. Not one of my asymptomatic 3 month headache jobs but the full blown, multi-sensory experience with flashing lights, hypersensitivity to noise, tactile distortion, dizziness and nausea.

Fortunately, after a few hours of what one of my college friends insisted on referring to as 'shouting for Hughie down the big white telephone', I managed to keep the medication down long enough for it to kick in. After that, apart from a tendency to walk into things and stagger a bit, it was almost normal working. Okay, my mouth and brain were out of sync. and I still wasn't entirely sure what vertical was but I could manage.
One week later and I was still wobbling around. The best way to describe it is that it felt like my brain had turned to liquid. When I moved my head, I was fine until I stopped, then my brain sloshed back and forth like coffee in a cup until it reached equilibrium. Fed up of this, I went to the doctor.

So I get seasickness pills(??) and the usual instructions to drink plenty of fluids and rest. Sorry, lady, I have a job I need to keep and I can't afford time off at the moment. Work it is.
So, another week down the line and I am still in the same state. I go back to the doctor and what do I get as a diagnosis this time?
Stress.
Look,doc, I am wobbling around. Customers are telling me I should take more water with it. I work in a job where I am not allowed to think about alcohol for eight hours before going on duty, let alone drink it. I could get tested for drugs and alcohol if anyone has reason to think I have had a drink. To be found to have had a drink is instant dismissal, no pension, no appeal. Being thought to be under the influence is not good. On top of that, I am finding it very difficult to read computer screens or paper and my co-ordination is completely shot. I struggle to form a complete coherent sentence and am so light sensitive I tried to put clip on sunglasses on my specs when I already had a pair on.

About Me

Okay folks. A bit more about me.
I am the youngest of four. My eldest brother is 17 years older than me, my sister 6 years older and the younger of my brothers was 5 years older. He, Colin, committed suicide when he was 35 after his ex-wife took their children to Australia and he lost touch.
I was born and brought up un a little village that would probably be called a suburb these days. Called Gonerby Hill Foot it is at the foot of the hill betweek the towns of Gonerby (pronounced Gunnerby) and Grantham. You may have heard of Grantham. A woman by the name of Margaret Roberts was born there. She went on to marry Dennis Thatcher and become the first woman Prime Minister of the UK.
My father picked my first name and named me after his favourite ship in the Navy, the HMS Penelope. I kept telling him he got it the wrong way round, you are supposed to name ships after daughters not daughters after ships. I suppose I should just be grateful he wasn't on the Ark Royal.
I lived and worked in Grantham apart from a brief year at York University, until work sent me to Coventry. Literally.